"Mikhail Bulgakov. The Fateful Eggs ("Роковые яйца")" - читать интересную книгу автора

violet ray. Then followed in letters of fire: "Professor Persikov in a car
explaining everything to our well-known reporter Captain Stepanov." And
there was the rickety old jalopy dashing along Volkhonka, past the Church of
Christ the Saviour, with the Professor bumping up and down inside it,
looking like a wolf at bay.
"They're devils, not human beings," the zoologist hissed through
clenched teeth as he rode past.
That evening, returning to his apartment in Prechistenka, the zoologist
received from the housekeeper, Maria Stepanovna, seventeen slips of paper
with the telephone numbers of people who had rung during his absence, plus
Maria Stepanovna's oral statement that she was worn out. The Professor was
about to tear the pieces of paper up, but stopped when he saw "People's
Commissariat of Health" scribbled next to one of the numbers.
"What's up?" the eccentric scientist was genuinely puzzled. "What's the
matter with them?"
At ten fifteen on the same evening the bell rang, and the Professor was
obliged to converse with a certain exquisitely attired citizen. The
Professor received him thanks to a visiting card which said (without
mentioning any names) "Authorised Head of Trading Sections for Foreign Firms
Represented in the Republic of Soviets."
"The devil take him," Persikov growled, putting his magnifying glass
and some diagrams down on the baize cloth.
"Send him in here, that authorised whatever he is," he said to Maria
Stepanovna.
"What can I do for you?" Persikov asked in a tone that made the
authorised whatever he was shudder perceptibly. Persikov shifted his
spectacles from his nose to his forehead and back again, and looked his
visitor up and down. The latter glistened with hair cream and precious
stones, and a monocle sat in his right eye. "What a foul-looking face,"
Persikov thought to himself for some reason.
The guest began in circuitous fashion by asking permission to smoke a
cigar, as a result of which Persikov reluctantly invited him to take a seat.
Then the guest began apologising at length for having come so late. "But
it's impossible to catch ... oh, tee-hee, pardon me ... to find the
Professor at home in the daytime." (The guest gave a sobbing laugh like a
hyena.)
"Yes, I'm very busy!" Persikov answered so curtly that the visitor
shuddered visibly again.
Nevertheless he had taken the liberty of disturbing the famous
scientist. Time is money, as they say ... the Professor didn't object to his
cigar, did he?
"Hrmph, hrmph, hrmph," Persikov replied. He'd given him permission."
"You have discovered the ray of life, haven't you, Professor?"
"Balderdash! What life? The newspapers invented that!"
"Oh, no, tee-hee-hee..." He perfectly understood the modesty that is an
invariable attribute of all true scholars... of course... There had been
telegrams today... In the cities of Warsaw and Riga they had already heard
about the ray. Professor Persikov's name was on everyone's lips... The whole
world was following his work with bated breath... But everyone knew how hard
it was for scholars in Soviet Russia. Entre nous, soi-dis... There wasn't